Chapter Text
Bungo sat on the ground holding her old, beat-up doll. It was the end of the day and her mother was across the room, preparing some kind of weak, watery vegetable soup over the cooking fire. She was old, far older than most people who have children the girl’s age. Her face bore the signs of years of hard labor and disappointment. Her body was broken down from failed pregnancy after a failed pregnancy. It wasn’t until much later in life that she was able to have a child. She was given a healthy baby girl, much to her disappointment.
Earlier in the day, the two of them had gotten into an argument, and Bungo was making sure to keep her distance. This side of her home was always colder, but she’d rather not risk rekindling her mother’s wrath. She was just lucky to be able to stay, and her parent’s made a point of reminding her of that fact.
“Bungo.”
Bungo was surprised by her mother’s voice. She looked up from her toy. Her mother had not turned around to address her and did not wait for a response.
“Go get your father from outside.”
It was not a question, so it did not need an answer. Bungo got up from her spot on the floor and made her way towards the front door.
She found her father behind the house, preparing the fields for what would be another failed harvest. This land had been handed down in her family for generations, and despite its current condition, was once very profitable. The soil had been able to grow anything you could imagine. Corn, squash, beans, they all had flourished at one time. For 7 generations the family lived very comfortably. But Bungo’s grandfather was not satisfied. Instead of rotating the plots after each season, he had every spot of land growing as much as it could handle. The immediate pay-off was huge; bringing in more cash than ever before. But after time, the land was sucked dry. Left with no chance for nutrients to return to the earth, the soil that was once dark and rich became dry and dusty. Bungo’s grandfather had left his family with nothing but dead land. Now, with a failing farm and no son to take up the family business, there was no hope the Bulger family could regain the prosperity and respect that it once had.
Bungo called out to her father and was greeted with the tired face of an old man. Without a word, he put away his tools, rinsed his hands off in a bucket of water, and followed Bungo back into the house.
Dinner was uneventful. The soup was bland, practically clear, with little bits of carrots and celery floating in the broth. Bungo’s father kept his head down as her mother went on her usual rant, complaining of anything she could think of. I found mouse poop in the cupboard again - the water in the well is running low, it’s those Hilts taking more than their share - I can feel a draft coming up from the floorboards - Bungo don’t slouch it makes you look even more pathetic.
Once her endless tirade was done and everyone had finished their meager meal, Bungo helped her mother clean the pots and dishes. Bungo thought about her old doll. It was given to her by her late grandmother when she was very young and it was showing signs of age. Its hair was falling out, it’s once navy dress now a faded blue, and one of its button eyes missing. And against her better judgment, Bungo decided to make a request.
“Mom,”
“What.” The reply was terse.
“Could I get a new doll?”
Her mother stopped her washing. Bungo watched her carefully. That had definitely gotten her attention. She had stopped moving, but she didn’t look agitated. Instead of being filled with annoyance or rage, her eyes looked tired. But she wasn’t angry. So Bungo decided to push farther.
“Or maybe another toy? She’s the only one I’ve ever had, and she’s so old now-”
Bungo’s mother’s fist made hard contact with Bungo’s left eye. Bungo fell backward, landing on her back with a loud thud and covering her eye in her hands. She looked back up at her mother who had not moved, fist still suspended where it had made contact with Bungo’s face. Bungo gave small apologies through shaking hands and soft sobs until her mother continued her cleaning without a word.
That night, Bungo went to bed wrapped up in blankets in front of the fireplace, trying to absorb the lingering heat from that day's fire. They could only afford one bed, and that was reserved for her parents. They were the ones who did all the work, so they were the ones who got to reap the benefits. Bungo was just a leach living off them until the day she would get married, get pregnant, and abandon her parents in this little old cottage to grow old and die. Or at least that’s what her mother told her.
Bungo did her best to get comfortable on the old wood floor and eventually drifted off into a shallow sleep, with her tattered old doll clutched in her arms.
----
The next day, Bungo went down the old beaten path towards town. A black eye was blooming on the left side of her face. Her mother had woken up in another bad mood, so she decided it would be a good day to get away from the house. Buildings appeared more frequently as she got closer to the town until they were practically stacked on top of each other in the village propper. In the center of town was the circle where makeshift shops and stands would set up, most of them regulars and run by people living in the town or just outside of it. But every so often, a few outsiders would come with fruits, fabrics or small treasures to sell. Most people in this town hadn’t left for generations, so many of these foreigners were considered to be strange, mysterious, and downright dangerous.
Today among the usual produce, meat and fish stands, tucked between the cheese-maker and the butcher were people, unlike anyone Bungo had seen before. They were taller than the average person in the village, and wider and thicker as well. They had long hair and thick beards decorated with braids and beads made of semi-precious stones. They looked like they were carved out of stone, and immovable even by the strongest winds.
The stand was quiet, only the most daring would go and interact with the strange visitors. The strangers stayed by their stand, only looking up to inspect whoever approached them with cold eyes or to speak to one another.
Bungo looked around the circle. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her either. It was a relatively small town, and everyone knew who she was and who her family was. People kept their distance, and the few that did make eye contact with the skinny girl with the black eye looked away and pretended it never happened. The odd stand suddenly seemed much less threatening.
It took Bungo a couple of minutes, but eventually, she plucked up the courage and made her way over to the strangers’ stand. When she reached it, Bungo had to stand up on her tiptoes to be able to see what was on the table. It was covered in glossy stones, all polished to a bright shine. There had to be every color under the sun and some of which Bungo had never seen before. Bright greens, pastel pinks and rich oranges helped to make up the mosaic displayed on the stand. Each stone was labeled, and Bungo tried her best to sound out the letters. While soaking in the rich rainbow laid out in front of her, Bungo’s eye was caught by what must have been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. On the far left side of the table was a small wooden box, opened to reveal a handful of bright blue beads, speckled with yellow and gold. Bungo reached in and plucked one of the spheres out of the pile, rolling it between her index finger and thumb. She had never seen the sea before, but she imagined that this is what it must look like. A deep, dark blue with golden light bouncing off its surface, endless and calm…
Bungo was snatched out of her daze by a large, square hand wrapped around her wrist. Up close, the foreigner was even more threatening. Their grey eyes were sunken deep into their skull and were overhung by thick eyebrows. Their hair was dark and long, reaching past their broad chest with light blue stones braided into it which contrasted against their pale skin. Like the rest of them, this one had a beard, but it was much thinner and shorter than the others. Their features also seemed to be slightly more feminine, but still nothing like the halflings from Bungo’s town.
“You will put that back right now.” The person’s low voice did not offer any more clues to their possible gender. The words rolled off their tongue unnaturally, gurgled in the back of their throat before being spat out with too many consonants and rolling “r”s. Bungo stared dumbly at the stranger. The sudden grip had been a shock, and she was still processing how the stranger looked up close. After a couple more moments of staring, the stranger looked at the stone still clutched in Bungo’s hand and plucked it out of her grasp. They let go of her arm before putting the stone back in place among its twins.
“Dirty children with no money are not allowed near my stand,” they said turning to walk away from the child.
Still surprised, Bungo processed the stranger’s words once again before remembering what little pride she had.
“What makes you think I have no money?” She said indignantly. She tried to make herself appear taller, still only able to make it to half the strangers hight. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The stranger looked over their shoulder, then fully turned to stand in front of Bungo. They sized her up, going from her dirty feet, her skinny legs, to her old, grimy dress that was once a light pink. It was now two sizes too small on her and heightened her small arms. Her face was also dirty, and her auburn hair was pulled back into a low knotted braid.
The stranger let out a half-amused, half annoyed huff. “Little one, I have seen many more sunrises and many more lands than you ever will. I know the poor and hungry when I see them. You will not get any pity from me.” They turned back around and closed the lid on the box holding the blue stones. “You and your sticky hands will stay away from my stand.”
They went to walk away from Bungo. She looked from the strangers broad back, to the box, and back to the stranger.
“Wait!”
The stranger stopped and once again turned halfway towards Bungo. “What is it?”
That’s a good question. What was it? Bungo wasn’t sure. What did she want from the stranger? She looked at the box again and at the label above it. She couldn’t read it.
“What is it called? That rock I was holding?”
“Can’t you read, child?” Bungo stood there for a second and slowly shook her head. No, not really. She could recognize some letters, spell out some short words, but that was about it.
The stranger laughed. A deep, rumbling chuckle that Bungo could feel vibrating through her chest.
“No one in this world is here to be on your side, child. If you want something, then you must go and take it for yourself. Hold that lesson with you.”
----
As the day drew towards an end, Bungo started down the path that would take her back to her parent’s farm. She stared down at her feet, kicking the stones that laid in her way. She thought about the stand, the stones, the stranger, their words… and that stone. She could not get that bright blue stone out of her mind. She could still feel it’s cool smoothness in her hand. In her life, she had never seen anything more mesmerizing and she had never wanted anything more desperately.
Bungo stopped and turned around, looking down the gently sloping path that headed back towards the center of town. The sun was starting to set and lights were appearing in windows as a plan began to take form in Bungo’s mind…
If you want something… she thought, then you must go and take it yourself.